As I added to my account, I found it easier and easier to just lift up. When my feet left the ground, I hovered for a few minutes delighting in the strange light sensation.

Then I looked up, and was flying fast, lifted upward and slightly forward, as you do when you are flying in a dream. What a beautiful feeling, so effortless, so light. Over treetops, above the canopy, my view was like a drone view, but intensely rapid. So fast it disoriented me and I had to close my eyes, trusting I’d end up in the right place, not entangled in electric wires or something. And I felt my body spreading out in an expansion I can only describe as love. A warm loving expansion as I rose up and up, past clouds now but not cold, for love’s expansion has a warmth to it. Not a cozy physical warmth, not the warmth of touch, but the warmth of love and beauty.

Some people thought I should be like this or that. Like them or better than them. I was not. I could not. A charred lump of coal condensed my feelings about the earth’s gravitational demands, its howling, its vortex of pain and profound learning. Good riddance. I leave behind only this small condensed black diamond. In some thousand thousand years my white diamond will return to earth, while the black diamond will be crushed underneath layers of sediment inside an indigo grotto.

Until then, keep this black diamond in your Wunderkabinett. It will answer your questions if you dare to ask them. It will sing if thrown down a mountainside. It will glow if heated but will never burn. It is the dark light of matter’s promise, a promise that our world will always continue. It will not be destroyed even if it should change to be unrecognizable. Remember me, the black diamond sings, as it is thrown down the mountainside, rolling where it lands and gathering bits of alpine meadowgrass before hitting a granite boulder.

I was to stop the rolling of the black diamond. I was to create a solid mass to deter further rolling and damage of delicate alpine plants. The boulder was the size of a sitting buddhist monk. The black diamond the size of a knee or a small fist, the fist of a child, the knee of a child. The child could not hold it. It was a hardened heart. A condensed brain. It was an aggregation of body parts and of a life. I was nauseous and threw up then. For this territory was new and shocking to me, to my regular rhythm. I was shot through with fear.

Then I remembered that I was high over the landscape, flying and singing. Humming melodies from long ago that no one remembered. I was the flying one, the black diamond, the meditating Buddhist strong as a boulder, and the keeper of the clear diamond.

For I was cutting through all materials. I was keeping it for the future, until my hands, such as they were, could no longer grasp it. It heats, vibrates, opens the hand and falls out, then rises to be seen by the sun before flying out of frame, heading home again.

Becoming born perhaps or just sitting on a shelf in a very rare and beautiful wunderkabinett, in another world.